


Mine, Out of Time

by farad



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: A response to Fic Promptly: concept “soul bonds” - Avengers, Bucky/Clint, Someone more than they could ever have hoped for.All mistakes my very own, though I have tried to tidy up the language.  So far, this is a stand-alone, based on "Captain America: Civil War".  No promises though.I did steal the 'name in the wrist' idea from the awesome Kayim, who prompted the top post of 'soul bonds'.





	Mine, Out of Time

 

The name had been on the arm he lost. Not that it mattered. It was burned into his memory - despite the years he'd been in Russia, tortured, mind controlled, memories so jumbled he didn't know who he was most of his waking hours.

 

 

 

But he remembered that name.

 

 

 

Which was part of why, when he woke up with Steve and his friend Sam in that safe place, he had agreed to this madness.

 

 

 

It was a weakness. Thought it was not a weakness for the Winter Soldier – he did not feel – well, anything. At all. Which was why he had been able to do the awful things that Bucky remembered, though they seemed to be a dream, one in which he watched someone else with his face do things he could not even imagine.

 

 

 

No, this weakness was his own weakness. He should never have let Steve help him. He should have insisted then, as Steve was talking about saving him, that no one would ever believe him. He wasn’t sure he believed himself.

 

 

 

But when Steve and Sam had been talking about who they could trust, who would help them, Steve had said a name, and that name had made Bucky’s flesh tingle, his belly thrum, long before his screwed up head had recognized it.

 

 

 

Of all the people he could have hoped to meet, this was – this was miraculous.

 

 

 

The name had appeared – well, if Steve was right, over a hundred years ago. Long before this man’s parents were even born.

 

 

 

At the time he’d had no idea what it meant, these names on the skin of the wrist, this intensity of physical response just at the sound of the words. It was while he was captive, though, that he had come to understand. Apparently it was a universal truth, and one more accepted – or at least acknowledged and manipulated – in the Soviet and then Hydra circles. Soul bonds.

 

 

 

Genetic weapons to be used against others.

 

 

 

It had been a blessing, in many ways, that he had lost his real arm so long ago.

 

 

 

A better blessing that during the times he was The Winter Soldier, the man he was supposedly destined for was either not yet born, or, interestingly, not in any data base.

 

 

 

Which was why, when Steven said the name, spoke as if he knew this man well, Bucky had kept his mouth shut.

 

 

 

And he had come, as Steve had said, arriving in that white van with others. Bucky had known him, though, as soon as he had seen his face.

 

 

 

As their eyes caught in that damned airport, he knew that Clint knew it too.

 

 

 

It was all the time they had, that exchange, that confirmation.

 

 

 

It was the image of that man, bright eyes, determination, and humor, that he thought about in Wakanda, as the gas lulled him into timeless sleep.

 

 

 

*&*&*&*&*

 

 

 

Clint stood on the balcony, looking out into the distance. It felt good to be here – well, it felt damned good to be out of the cell, off of that damned prison ship.

 

 

 

But he needed to be with Laura and the kids.

 

 

 

Though that had not been on his mind when Steve had called and asked for his help. Steve had been honest – brutally so. The Accords, Tony’s guilt, giving over control to politicians – it had been enough on its own. Clint had already made his decision before Steve had explained the rest.

 

 

 

Before he had said the name.

 

 

 

The mere sound of it, low and intimate in his ear, had nullified every other consideration.

 

 

 

The man had been dead – supposedly – long before he was born. Clint had always assumed it was some cosmic joke – as with so many others in his life.

 

 

 

But then Steve Rogers had arisen from his ice-logged grave, and Clint had ended up – through no effort of his own – working with the man.

 

 

 

Hearing his drunken stories of growing up with his friend – his partner – Bucky Barnes. Hearing of that last mission together, the one where Bucky had been lost and Steve himself had ended up at the bottom of the ocean.

 

 

 

And then – and then . . .

 

 

 

Clint had retired. He had a life. He had a wife, children, responsibilities.

 

 

 

And the name that was etched in his skin was that of a murderous assassin, someone who might be alive but was not “Bucky Barnes”. He had too much experience himself with having someone else control his mind. With not being himself. Loki had controlled him for days.

 

 

 

The man who was the Winter Soldier had been so for decades.

 

 

 

He had made a choice, planned his life – hell, he’d finished the last remodeling job and was settling into a life of doing carpentry for other people, some actual artistic stuff. He was happy.

 

 

 

Until Steve said the name.

 

 

 

“You talked to Laura?”

 

 

 

He wasn’t startled by the voice, or, from her, the question. He’d known she was there for a while. “No. Stupidly, I took Tony there, so he’ll have it monitored.”

 

 

 

She came in close, leaning on the rail beside him. “It’s beautiful here,” she said, still quiet. “We could try to get her and the kids, bring them here.”

 

 

 

He shook his head before she finished the thought. “You know better than that – hell, you signed off on all the paperwork, in case I ever ‘disappeared’. Laura and the kids are safer there than they would be here with me. I can’t do that to her – to the kids. Ever.”

 

 

 

She sighed. “I know. Just – well, it just sucks that after all this, all that you’ve put on the line, you’re still not going to have any time together.”

 

 

 

For a second, he was startled. Until his brain kicked in. Of course she knew. She was his best friend, a former lover.

 

 

 

And it occurred to him then, as it should have much earlier, why she had done what she had.

 

 

 

Why she had let Steve and Bucky get away.

 

 

 

He reached out and dropped one hand on hers, where they were clasped on the rail. “If it’s meant to be,” he said softly. “At some time, it will happen.”

 

 

 

She turned to look at him, her beautiful face turned into a frown. “You think?”

 

 

 

He smiled at her. “I do. If for no other reason that I have you, and he has Steve. I think it’s already been proven that nothing on Earth can stop either of you, if you believe in what you’re doing.”

 

 

 

She was still for a few seconds before she grinned. “Seems we’re in good company,” she said, straightening. She leaned against him, and without a thought, he put his arm around her, which made it easier to hear her murmured, “Let’s hope that Steve and Tony reconnect as well.”

 


End file.
